the middle of
the court, making them sit round, whilst he took his station in the
midst. He then related his promised story.

I endeavoured to pay every attention to it; but I found that my mind
so constantly strayed from the narrative to the scenes I had lately
witnessed, that it became impossible for me to retain what he said.
I remarked, however, that he interested his audience in the highest
degree; for when plunged in one of my deepest reveries I was frequently
roused by the laughter and applause which the dervish excited. I
promised myself on some future occasion to make him relate it over
again, and in the meanwhile continued to give myself up wholly to my
feelings. Much did I envy the apparent light-heartedness that pervaded
my companions and which at intervals made the vaulted rooms of the
building resound with shouts of merriment. I longed for the time when I
should again be like them, and enjoy the blessings of existence without
care; but grief, like every other passion, must have its course, and, as
the spring which gushes with violence from the rock, by degrees dwindles
into a rivulet; so it must be let to pass off gradually until it becomes
a moderate feeling, and at length is lost in the vortex of the world.

Day had closed by the time that the dervish had finished his story.
The blue vault of heaven was completely furnished with bright twinkling
stars, which seemed to have acquired a fresh brilliancy after the storms
of the preceding night; and the moon was preparing to add her soft
lustre to the scene, when a horseman, fully equipped, entered the porch
that leads into the caravanserai.

The principal persons of the caravan had still kept their stations on
the platform, quietly smoking their pipes and discussing the merits of
the tale they had just heard; the servants had dispersed to spread their
masters' beds; and the muleteers had retired for the night to nestle
in among their mules and their baggage: I, destitute of everything, had
made up my mind to pass my night on the bare ground with a stone for
my pillow; but when I looked at the horseman, as he emerged from the
darkness of the porch into the light, my ideas took another turn.

I recognized in him one of the nasakchies, who under my orders had
witnessed the death of the wretched Zeenab; and I very soon guessed what
the object of his journey might be, when I heard him ask if the caravan
was coming from or going to Tehran; and whether they had